


wild life

by chozenone



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Cars, Forced Bonding, Jally is Still Dead, Multi, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Swearing, Two Years Later, buck owns the dx in this i’ll explain in notes, i did NOT proof read this at ALL LMFAO, if you see a mistake then you Mind Your Business, possibly still canon compliant who knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25442518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chozenone/pseuds/chozenone
Summary: One road can’t detour Steve. No matter how much it tries.
Relationships: Ponyboy Curtis & Steve Randle
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	wild life

**Author's Note:**

> fucking GOD i truly didn’t expect i’d actually get this done. i had this idea for over a month and kept stalling at the beginning but hey! here it is! also side note, in the 90s show that no one likes to remember buck owned the dx (i think?) and he had like a bar too, idk if that was separated from the station or what but it’s merged here. whatever, enjoy!

wild life

  
  


✮

  
  


Aw, shit. Late. _Again._

It ain’t Steve’s fault, really. It’s just his shitty luck. Y’know, the shitty luck of having a broken alarm clock that he keeps forgetting to replace. Or the shitty luck of having a shitfaced, lazy fatass of an old man that can’t be assed to wake up at a decent time because he’s passed out from yet another hangover. Y’know, that type of shitty luck.

Steve can barely brush his bleeding gums harder before running back to his room and hastily slipping on his jeans, shoes, and an unbuttoned DX shirt, running hurriedly for the front door with a tub of grease in his hand and making _sure_ it slams, knowing his old man would hear it and get pissed. It’s the little things in life.

Jumping in his convertible, he turns the key to ignition and is already off on the streets. Not too many cops are around during the morning so he probably won’t get caught speeding, he’s gone faster in drag races anyway. There was just one problem.

Tulsa traffic.

It ain’t long before he catches up to a car behind another car behind another car behind another car. Yep. Just his shitty luck. 

Glory, he wouldn’t’ve cared if this was back when he was in school. He could deal with Saturday detention, but he works a full-time job now. Detention and unemployment are two different ballparks.

He uses the time to button his shirt and grease his hair into those “complicated” swirls, might as well be _fashionably_ late, but after that he’s just stuck listening to horns honking and people yelling like that’s actually gonna do a damn thing. He’s in hell.

He looks around, trying to find an alternative road that’s clearer and he does. But fuck it. Not that road. Anything but that road. Steve’s worked too hard to forget it for it to all come back now. Screw that.

He sits back and turns the radio on to the Beach Boys and _waits_. Hell, Buck’ll just have to give him a time out or something.

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


Business is slow at the DX. Then again, it’s Monday. Nobody in this stupid town never does nothin’ on Monday. As much as those broads that only come there to make eyes with Soda drive Steve nuts, he’s missing them something awful in the sweltering heat.

Soda’s behind the counter with him, playing with the display rack. Steve keeps telling him to stop it before he breaks somethin’ but Soda keeps on, so Steve lets that be his problem. The kid is also there, sticking his nose in a book like the square he is. Though, Steve doesn’t know how that kid can concentrate with Two-Bit right beside him howling about some story about a broad.

“And then when I hold the door for her, she slaps me straight across the face!” Two-Bit babbled. “I swear it’s these feminists these days that’s messing it up for us fellas. You got the right to vote, what else do ya need?”

“Probably for your dumb ass to stop talkin’ to them.” Steve replied dryly, eyes on the counter as he wipes it down.

“Aw, who says I was talkin’ them down?”

Soda chimed in. “Well, were you?”

“Yeah. Guess she ain’t like that.” Two-Bit broke out into a shit-eating grin which Steve could already tell Sodapop was echoing. “I don’t see the problem, all women need nowadays is somebody to marry. Ain’t gotta be somebody you’re attracted to.”

Steve grunted. “Last time I check, a woman’s not really lookin’ to marry a guy who still lives his with momma, got no job, and got his license suspended from a DUI.”

“Woah!” Two-Bit raised his hands in the air as surrender. “What crawled up your asshole and died, Steve?”

Soda inches closer to Steve, slinking an arm around his shoulders. “Stevie here is just cranky that Buck got on to him for being late again.” Steve could hear the amused smirk loud as day in that sentence. Sometimes, it’s completely normal to want to slap the everlasting taste out of your best friend and make him shut up.

Suddenly, Pony was no longer interested in that stupid book of his. “Explains why you look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Oh wait, you look like that everyday.”

Steve can admit that was good, but it’s hard to admit something when everyone’s dying on the floor laughing like a damn hyena because they think it’s the funniest damn thing in the world. Ponyboy, that kid, he always had wit. The problem was he’s older now and that wit got better. Much to Steve’s expense. It’s a lot of comebacks that whirl through his brain at that moment, but the only he could muster that wouldn’t result in Sodapop decking him in the face is “Real funny, kid.”

“Just kiddin’, Steve.” Pony says. “I should get you an alarm clock or somethin’.”

Soda pats him on the back. “Nah, more like he should be gettin’ you something cause I know a special day is comin’ up for a special guy.”

Two-Bit pats him on the back too. “Our little Ponyboy is turning sixteen. Soon he’ll be a Ponyman.” Two-Bit scrunches his face, wiping fake, nonexistent tears from his eyes. “They grow up so fast.”

Steve put the rag down and looked up at Ponyboy. “If I buy you a coke, will that count as your birthday gift?”

“But you and Soda always do that.”

“Do you want it or not?”

Ponyboy put his hands up. “Okay, no complaints.”

Steve turned around and got a coke from the fridge, giving it to Ponyboy. Before he can even take the lid off, Soda starts up again.

“You know, Pony. Since you’re turning sixteen, it means you’re gonna be driving. Soon enough you’ll be an actual customer and Buck won’t kick you two out now.”

Pony’s brows shot up. “Driving?”

“Yeah, driving.” Soda leaned over the counter. “Darry probably won’t let us but you a new truck, but soon you’ll get the keys and…”

Soda’s voice trailed off in Steve’s mind. Steve can’t blame him, Soda shares the same passion for cars and if you get him started then he can’t stop and won’t stop. But all Steve could focus on was how the kid looked so awkward. Like he was sweating bullets and a degree away from a heat stroke, yet didn’t once take a swig of the drink that _Steve_ paid for.

After Soda was done rambling at the freedoms of driving and whatnot, Ponyboy let out a very forced cough. “Well, gee, Soda, I haven’t really thought about that.”

“Well you better!” It was Two-Bit beaming. “Who knows how long they’ll keep me from driving.”

“One more month.” Steve answers. “Besides, give the kid some breathin’ room, last thing he needs in his shitty life is playing chauffeur because you can’t stop being shitfaced for one second.”

Two-Bit whistled. “Well excuse me, your majesty, I see someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this mornin’. Anyways, did y’all hear Rexanne Conners got knocked up by Danny Zinelli?”

Soda and Two-Bit start talking about that train wreck of a story for a bit. Pony shot a look over to Steve before sticking his nose back into that book. Steve couldn’t tell what that look was, but it was weird. Real weird. It wasn’t long before Buck came in and told the other two to leave. Apparently Two-Bit buying a magazine every hour doesn’t cut it anymore. They muttered their byes before walking out, though Steve noticed one thing. It was the kid, he left his coke on the counter. Unopened.

Great. That’s a dollar wasted.

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


Work starts at 8. Steve woke up at 8:30. Oh boy.

He’s up and already starting the same rushed routine – the new normal – brushing gums real fast till’ they bleed, sloppily putting on clothes without thinking (his zipper is half-open and he _might_ have mismatched socks), speeding in the living room past his—

“Dad!”

His old man was wide awake, sitting in his recliner with a newspaper in one hand, coffee in the other watching the morning cartoons. This ain’t supposed to be part of the routine.

His old man grunts in response.

Steve picks his keys up, not looking away. “How long’ve you been up?”

“‘Bout an hour.”

“And it didn’t cross your mind once to wake me up, you know I got work!”

“Boy, you’re a grown man now. Learn how to wake your damn self up, it ain’t my responsibility.”

 _Nothing’s been your responsibility for a while._ Steve grits his teeth cause technically his old man is right, but what-the-fuck-ever, it don’t matter. Like hell he’ll get in an argument about this at the ass crack of dawn. ‘Specially when his job is on the line. He let out an irritated sigh, muttering some curses under his breath and went for the door.

“Oh, and just one thing!” His old man called out. “And if you slam that damn door again, you ain’t comin’ back through it!”

Steve slammed it anyways. He’s climbed through the windows plenty of times.

He hops into his car, starts it, and pulls out of the driveway a bit too carelessly, almost knocking over the mailbox in the process. It ain’t long before he finds himself in the Tulsa morning traffic again.

He looks over. Over to that road. It’s light. It’s free. It’s fast. It’s evil. Just thinking about it makes Steve’s hands sweat. Or nah, that’s just the summer heat. He looks away and looks ahead over the onslaught of cars in front of him. Fuck.

Maybe Buck will understand.

  
  
  


✮

  
  


Buck does not understand.

“Boy, do I look like I’m running a damn circus?” His southern drawl is thick and animated, like a yankee’s stereotype of southerners. An offensive stereotype at that. “Everyday you’re comin’ in here with an unbuttoned shirt, jacked up hair, looking like a drunken mess.”

 _Then you should meet my father._ Steve wants to say. Instead he says, “Look, I told you my clock’s been broken and I ain’t been able to get a new one.”

“You’re a mechanic, why don’t you fix it?”

“Ha ha.” Steve deadpans. “I’m serious, Buck. Besides, we don’t even get that much service in the morning anyways, who in their right mind takes their janky ass car to a shop at eight in the morning?”

Buck looks unimpressed. “I don’t care who brings what at whenever. I say you are to be here at eight and I expect you to be here at eight sharp.” He gets up from his deck, walking over to where Steve was sitting. From the view it looked like Buck was towering over him. Like a man talking to a little boy. Steve sure as hell felt like one in the minute. “Now Steve, I get you’re still new to the full-time thing and it’s hard to adjust,”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “But I’ve been working full-time for almost two years now.”

Buck ignored him. “But when you asked to start working these hours I told you it was gonna be different.”

Steve stood up, no longer wanting to feel like a pre-schooler getting chewed out by the teacher. “Buck, I’ve been working here for a few years now and you know I’m good at what I do.”

“You are, but I need someone’s whose good and responsible enough.”

“I am responsible!” Steve said a little too loudly. He didn’t need the whole station (well, just Sodapop) knowing his business. “Sorry, just, come on, give me another chance, I’ll stop being late.”

Buck stared at him for what felt like damn near centuries until his lip twisted, curling that bushy mustache with it. “Alright. Remember, eight. Eight sharp.”

“You’re the boss.” Steve smiled, but Buck didn’t return it and just walked past him.

Could’ve been worse.

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


“My money’s on number 6.” Soda points to a green car with purple graffiti art sprayed all over it. “Think they call that one Monster. What about you, Two-Bit?”

Two-Bit flips through his stack of cash. He ain’t got much to begin with anyways. “I think I’ll take my chance with Fiesta.”

Steve smirks. “But can you afford to take your chance?” He laughs, narrowly avoiding Two-Bit’s fist to the shoulder.

“Real funny, Steve. Who’re you bettin’ on?”

Steve looks in the dirt arena, inspecting his choices and looks back at Two-Bit and Soda. “I’ll go with Crazy Eight. Eight’s my lucky number. Twenty or nothing, Soda?”

“Twenty or nothing.”

“Two?”

“Twenty or nothing.”

They do a three-way handshake right as Ponyboy and Darry walk over with Darry holding a drink and hot dog in each hand.

“I know y’all aren’t betting on this, you know gambling kills?”

Soda walked over to his other brother, tossing an arm around his shoulder. “Relax, Darry. You used to gamble sometimes.”

Two-Bit laughed. “Yup, until Tim took damn near his whole life savings.” He doesn’t even flinch when Darry punches him in the chest.

“Besides,” Soda continues. “It’s just us three. Nothing wrong with a little friendly competition.”

“It don’t seem friendly when you three’re gonna be bitch slapping each other and getting us thrown out.”

Soda opens his mouth to argue back, but a loud horn interrupts him.

Two-Bit jumps up. “It’s starting!”

Steve sits back, watching not only the scrambling cars piling on top of each other, but the night sky, the air, the crowd of people jumping up and down with excitement. He loved demolition derby night. It was probably the best way to spend a Friday night, even better than drag racing cause he ain’t the one at risk of losing his money or his life. Better someone else than him, right?

The round continued a bit more. Steve was on the edge of his seat while Soda and Two-Bit were standing up. It was down to just five cars. Crazy Eight was still in, so was Fiesta and Monster. When Crazy Eight narrowly missed a head-on collision by Monster, he muttered under his breath and felt his leg shake something awful. He’s damn near close to losing his job, he can’t afford to lose twenty bucks.

Steve’s so focused on his own car that he doesn’t notice Fiesta getting toppled over by another car until Two-Bit slams his wallet down cursing up a storm.

“Look’ere, Steve. We got a sore loser!” Soda howled as he high-fived Steve, ignoring Two-Bit’s middle finger.

“Ah, what the fuck ever. The round ain’t over yet, one of you gonna be pissin’ your pants soon.” Two-Bit leans over to Ponyboy. “Hey, kid, which one you reckon’ll win.”

Ponyboy shrugged. “I dunno. I just like to watch.”

“You gotta watch carefully, that’s how you make the cash!”

Darry cleared his throat. “Don’t bring him into you guys’ bullshit, I don’t need another addict in this family.” Sodapop’s too engrossed in the derby to notice the look Darry shoots over to him. Ponyboy tried to stifle a laugh, but the kid was always bad at stifling his emotions.

“Y’know Two-Bit, you’d be good at this type of stuff.”

Steve snorts. “If they ain’t lettin’ him drive a normal car, what makes you think they’re gonna let him drive one of those.”

“Our annoying, bastard of a friend is right, Pony.” Two-Bit said. “You know, you’re almost sixteen, maybe they’ll let you get a job here!”

Steve felt like he was the only damn person in the world who could see the kid’s smile falter. His face seemed to soften a bit too, like he saw a ghost or something. It was kinda freaky. “A job? Here?”

Two-Bit, that dumbass, didn’t seem to get the memo. “Yeah! Wouldn’t that be the life?” He chuckled, patting Pony on the back. “Just ramming into people with your car for no good reason and you can’t get in trouble. Maybe if I did this instead my license wouldn’t be suspended.”

The kid looked around. Jesus, it almost looked like he was about to hurl on Two-Bit. “Hey, I gotta go to the bathroom. Hold my stuff, willya?” He gave Two-Bit his hot dog then took off, shoving past the crowd in the bleachers.

Steve knows bullshit when he sees it.

He looked over to Superman, who was watching the game like nothing was goin’ on. Two-Bit stood next to Soda, cheering on his car. “Hey, guys. I’m going to the concession stand, kay?”

“Hey, while you’re there could you get me—“

“Hey, hey. The hell I look like? The Salvation Army? I’ll be back.” He took off, ignoring Two-Bit’s “Go to hell.” and shoved past the crowd in the bleachers, getting a mix, “Watch it!”, “Fuck you!”, and a punch to the back of the head. Stay classy, Tulsa.

By the time he was at the bottom of the bleachers he could see the kid walking in sight, but it wasn’t toward the bathrooms.

“Hey, kid!” Steve called out, running towards Ponyboy, but Pony didn’t stop. _“Hey! Ponyboy Curtis, I said will you wait the fuck up?”_

Ponyboy stopped and turned around as Steve finally caught up with him. “God, Steve, do ya gotta yell?”

“I wouldn’t yell if you weren’t so damn hard of hearing.” Steve breathed out, still tired from that run. “Anyways, you seem to be going the wrong way. Bathroom’s over there, that’s the exit, the hell are you tryin’ to piss in the parking lot?”

“‘Course you’re worryin’ about how I piss, pervert.”

“Oh, shut up, why’re you tryna bail?”

Pony shuffled his feet real awkward like. Kid never really stopped being the odd type. “I, uh, I just feel sick.”

“You did look a little nasty back there, I’ll go tell Darry—“

“No, you can’t!” Pony blurted out. His face flushed a tomato red. “Don’t tell, Darry.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “And why not?”

“‘Cause I don’t want him worryin’ his head off, y’know?”

“You ain’t really sick, are you?”

“Steve, look.” That answers his question. “It doesn’t matter, just tell Darry I don’t feel good and I had to go, alright?”

Steve crosses his arms. “And why should I?”

“‘Cause then I won’t tell Darry that it was you and Two-Bit who broke the lamp in the living room. Y’know he’s still awfully mad he had to pay for another one.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “How did you know—“ Sodapop. “Whatever. What’s got you in a rush? I’d say a party, but nobody ever invites you to those. I’d say trying to meet up with a broad, but knowing you that broad is just Shepard’s kid brother.” Steve laughed. Ponyboy looked unamused. “Oh come on, even you gotta admit that one was good.”

“Just shut up, Steve!” Pony hissed. “I just wanna go home, what’s so bad about that?”

“Kid, you usually love the derby.”

“Well, I’m growin’ up. I’m sixteen, I’m gettin’ too old for this type of junk.”

Steve felt his face twist sourly. “Hey, I’m nineteen and still like this junk. The hell are you tryna call me a child or somethin’?”

He expected some witty remark, but the kid just sighed like he was real bored of it all. “Steve, I just don’t wanna argue, ya dig? I’m just askin’ you this once to tell Darry I’m sick or somethin’ and uh, I saw Curly and he walked me home.”

 _Yeah, cause that’ll Superman feel better._ Steve looked around. “I mean, Pony, it’s pretty dark out, are ya sure you don’t want me to at least walk you home or—“

“I ain’t some little naïve kid anymore, I got my switch in my pocket. I’ll be fine. Look, this could be like your early birthday gift to me, kay?”

Good, cause you kinda ignored my last gift. Steve wants to say. But before he can answer, Ponyboy is off into the night. Glory, Steve hopes for once that damn kid doesn’t attract trouble and gets himself killed. ‘Cause then Superman’ll kill him.

Just then, Two-Bit ran up to him. “Hey, Steve. Soda wants that twenty on the spot. Monster won the derby.”

Screw this entire fuckin’ day.

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


Work starts at eight. Steve is awake by seven-thirty.

Glory, it felt like he was in the Twilight Zone. It’s been days since he was able to actually get up and go through a morning routine like a normal human being. He didn’t have to make his gums bleed to death, his DX shirt was buttoned, his socks were the same color, and he took extra time on his swirls than usual.

Still, it didn’t stop him from slamming the door. The old man’s curses were like music to his ears today.

Being early meant not having to deal with the shitty Tulsa traffic and not having to hear anymore “Learn how to drive, faggot!” or useless ass horn honking that drives him up the wall instead of the damn road. It was nice.

Despite how hard he tries he can’t help but look over to that street. It looks so normal. So nice and friendly and boring.

Steve knows better. He wishes he didn’t.

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


The summer days passed on. Slow. Like _real_ slow.

It’s great to still have a job, but sometimes Steve reconsiders it when the temperature reaches Eighty-five degrees in the afternoon and you’re stuck in a room that smells of car exhaustion. To summarize – _he hates this job_. Business is slower than usual (Sodapop working without a shirt on doesn’t seem to attract the girls this year), nobody’s coming in much, and Buck is too damn cheap to buy AC. There’s a labor law about this somewhere. 

Of course, Sodapop, his great, goofy best friend is there with him to make it better, by going in the back room and knocking down a bunch of shit that Steve knows he’s gonna have to clean up later. 

The door swings open. “Geez, it feels like a goddamn sauna in this place.” It’s Two-Bit walking in. Alone. With no one else. It’s been like that for days now.

Soda comes out from the back smiling. “Two-Bit!” He beams.

Steve’s glad too, contrary to popular belief and when he leans over the counter saying “Y’know, we coulda had customers in here while you’re cussin’ up a storm.”

Two-Bit walks up to the counter, already playing with the display rack. “But y’all don’t got any customers, do ya?”

“Steve, he’s got a point.” Soda chimes in.

Two-Bit chuckles. “So, how the hell’re y’all workin’ in this heat?” He takes a magazine from the rack and fans himself with it. “I’d die of a heat stroke, almost passed out working here.”

Soda whistled. “Two-Bit, you gotta actually have a job before you can say what you’d do.”

They start exchanging licks, Soda with his hands, Two-Bit with the magazine that he better pay for since he’s crumpling it so damn much. Steve would usually find it amusing, but it was something bugging the hell out of him that he couldn’t shake.

“Where the hell is Ponyboy?”

Both of them froze in their fight, looking at Steve like he grew an extra head.

Two-Bit spoke up, “What’d’ya mean?”

“The kid. He ain’t been here in days, usually he’s always tagging along behind you and suckin’ me dry outta my money asking for a coke.” He turns to Soda. “Ain’t you his brother? Shouldn’t you be askin’ this?”

Soda snorted. “I am his brother, I live with him for Christ’s sake, Steve.” Steve pursed his lips, Soda continued. “He told me he just wanted to hang out with his own friends.”

“His own friends or Curly Shepard?”

They both laughed. Steve didn’t know why, he was kinda serious.

Two-Bit smirked. “Gee, Steve, suddenly you’re so interested in the kid. Usually, you’d be glad he ain’t around.”

And Steve could give him that. He doesn’t have the best track record with Ponyboy, but Christ it’s not like he actually _hated_ the kid, no matter what that little shit wrote in that theme he did. But damn it, something was off with that kid and Steve felt like he was the only person in the world who could see that. Still, all he could muster was:

“I just wanted to know, damn. What’s it to ya?”

Two-Bit held his hands in surrender with a shit eating grin. “Nothin’, man. Nothin’. The kid just probably wants to read more. Y’know he’s a lil’ dork.”

He ain’t wrong, it’s definitely some dorky shit Ponyboy would do. But there might be more.

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


“I’m gonna kill him.”

“Him” being Tim. Never buy a clock from anyone in Shepard’s Gang. Steve starts cruising down Park Avenue, wanting to swerve into a tree as he mentally beats his own ass for being so _stupid_ in trusting Shepard to do something that ain’t shady and damn near possibly illegal.

Work starts at eight. He woke up at 7:40. He’s on the road by 7:50. He can just smell the unemployment line from here. Damn it, he was going to lose his job over a stupid ass clock that Shepard sold him for five bucks. Even the lousy ones in the store cost more. Whatever, he’ll deal with Tim later, but now he’s gotta figure out a way to beat this traffic.

When he stops behind a long slew of cars, he looks around analyzing his options. Maybe if he gets out of his car and runs to the DX he can make it on time, Buck’ll just be mad about how sweaty and disgusting he is. Nevermind.

Looking around, his eyes peer over to the street over. _That_ street. It looked less crowded. It was odd how everyone else didn’t wanna mess with that street, like it was cursed or somethin’. They’re right.

Steve looks at the traffic ahead then back at the street. Traffic ahead, street, traffic ahead, street. It’s either lose his job and get his ass kicked out on the streets or stop being such a fucking pansy.

Fuck.

He backs out slowly, trying to prolong it all, but then he remembers this is just getting him closer to being late.

He turns the corner and it all comes back.

Cherokee Road.

Steve remembers this place. He tried to forget this place, but you can’t ever forget a place like this. Shit, suddenly his hands felt all sweaty and clammy and he needed both of them on the wheel. They felt like they were bleeding whiter than a ghost but it was necessary. His foot eases off the gas pedal and his shoulder stiffens in his seat. He hears everything at once. The radio, the honking, the yelling and talking, the sirens. He can see everything too. He looks at the streetlight with a dent in it. God, he never realized how big that dent was. Shit.

Without even thinking, he swerves into the next lane, barely missing a ‘64 Toyota and finds himself on Camelot Drive. The guy in the Toyota gives him the bird, which Steve politely returns, but glory he knows he deserves. It’s been over two years, he should’ve been over this shit by now, yet he’s out here almost causing six-car pile ups.

Whatever, it’s over now. It’s cool, everything’s good. Steve lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and relaxes. It’s not long before he makes it to the DX. 7:59. He hops out of the car and runs in, almost collapsing on the counter where Sodapop was standing.

“Woah there, Steve.” Sodapop cautioned. He looked at Steve like he was crazy. “Buddy, you’re so pale and sweaty, did you see a ghost or somethin’?”

“I did.”

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


The day went on as normal. Some people came around for easy stuff like an oil change, some middle class girls came by just to flirt with Soda a bit which reminded Steve of how him and Evie used to be, Two-Bit came in and they left (funny, huh?), and most importantly - he still gets to keep his job!

Now him, Soda, and Two-Bit drove back to the Curtis house to relax and wind down after a long, hot day of hardly working. All's well that ends well.

Soda opens the door and they see Darry standing next to a bruised and cut up Ponyboy sitting slumped over on the couch.

Apparently not.

Two-Bit immediately jumps into action. “What the hell happened to him?”

Ponyboy opens his mouth, but the words abruptly come from Darry’s lips. “He got mugged!”

Two-Bit shut the door. “Mugged?”

“Mugged.” Darry repeated. “He was walking and some disgusting punks jumped on ‘im. It happened when y’all were still at the DX.”

Soda ran over to the couch to sit next to Pony. “Why didn’t nobody call us?”

“‘Cause Pony didn’t want to for god knows what.”

“‘Cause it’s fine, Darry!” Pony interjected. “I just got a few scratches and bruises, I’ve gotten worse before.”

“It ain’t fine when someone steals your shoes and wallet.”

“Aw, Darry you know I don’t got that much money anyways, not like they were taking much.” Pony joked, but Darry looked like he was gonna blow at any second now. Steve just stood by the doorway, sticking his hands in his pockets and watching.

“You think this is funny?” Darry sneered. “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt. They could’ve _killed_ you, Pony.”

Just as Steve thought, trouble was always following that kid.

“Did you have your switch?” Soda asked.

“I did, I’m not that stupid.” Pony replied.

“Do you know who did it?” Two-Bit asked, standing behind the couch where Pony sat.

For the second time, Pony opens his mouth but the sound comes from Darry. “Apparently some socs did it.”

Soda’s lip twisted in a mean snarl. “Tuh, for some rich bastards they sure like pickin’ from the lower class.”

Weird. Steve thought that whole greaser-soc thing bullshit died out after what happened. Both sides lost their most famous members, he figures everyone was too sad to be fightin’ anymore. Guess some things never change. It was fucking pathetic.

He wants to ask the usual “Why were you walking alone?” but after the night of the derby, he knows he can’t without having a strange feeling. It’d be blatant ass hypocrisy. Lucky for Steve though, Soda was thinking the same question.

“I was going to the store.” Ponyboy answers.

Darry threw his hands up in the air. “You could do that with me!”

Steve shuffled on his feet. Glory, he felt so left out and awkward. Is this what it feels like to be Ponyboy all the time? He just _had_ to say something at least. “Oh come on, Darry. Lay off the kid, he’s older now he can take it.”

Steve almost flinched at the murderous glare Darry shoots him. “Since when the hell were you on his side?”

Steve looked around. Everyone was staring at him like he was some kind of mental nutcase. Even the damn kid had his jaw open.

Darry continued. “Whatever, it don’t matter. We can’t afford any more medical bills or any dangerous shit like that happening again.” He crossed his arms. “Y’know what? I know the problem.”

Pony raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Yeah.” Darry said. “Too much walking, it’s dangerous for you. You need to learn how to drive.”

Now both of the kid’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Darry, I’m a runner! I don’t need to drive!”

“Save it. One of us’ll just teach you.”

Boy, Steve feels bad for the sucker that gets wrapped into this.

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


“What the hell do you mean I gotta teach him?”

Steve feels like he should’ve seen this coming or something. Fucking hell, he really really wants to say Superman is joking and just pulling his leg on some funny shit, then he remembers. It’s Superman. Darry. Darryl Shaynne Curtis Jr. King of serious.

Darry’s face stays neutral in the yellow streetlight shining on one side and the moonlight shining on the other. “You’re the best at dealing with cars outta all of us, Steve. You’re perfect for this.”

“Well I gotta say I’m so flattered and honored,” Steve leered. “But this seems like a thing between brothers, ya know?”

“Soda and I are too busy.”

“Me and Soda work almost the same shifts!”

“Soda works weekends, you don’t.”

Darry got him there. “Alright, what about Two-Bit?”

Darry snorted. “Love the guy, but I’m not lettin’ someone with a DUI teach my brother how to drive.”

Christ, so much for not being the alcoholic his old man is. “Look, I dunno, Kryptonite. Me and the kid just don’t always see eye to eye on things, I don’t think he’d want me teachin’ him.”

“Steve, come on, that’s bull.” Darry swung an arm around Steve’s neck, pulling him into a headlock, ruffling his hair. If he said anything about his messed up swirls, Steve feels Darry would choke him to death.

Darry continued, “Pony loves you like a brother, too, y’know.”

Steve finally got it. “I see what’s goin’ on.” He says. “You want this to be a bonding thing.”

“Yup.”

“You and Soda both agreed to this already.”

“Mhm.”

“And if I don’t do it then you’re gonna clobber me.”

Darry’s biced squeezed against Steve’s neck.

“You’ve always been a smart kid, Steve.”

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


Steve would be a lying son of a bitch if he said he wasn’t pretty excited to teach the kid the ropes. Him and Soda already tried to teach him how to work at the cars at the DX, and as smart as that twerp is he’s about as useful at fixin’ cars as a sack of Peruvian shit. But fixin’ and drivin’ are two different things. It’s easy to drive and the kid is smart, he’d catch on and this could be over quick. ‘Sides, maybe he could get some answers out of the kid on why he’s acting so funny. Speak of the devil…

“Hey, Steve.” Ponyboy greeted while getting in the driver seat of the car.

“Hey, ya ready?”

Ponyboy shrugged. “I guess, but why do we gotta do this in the lot?”

“‘Cause it’s literally in our neighborhood, dumbass. The hell you want me to do? Drive you to Vegas?”

Ponyboy groaned. “God, Steve are you just gonna be like this for the whole time?”

Steve held up his hands. “Hey, hey, look I’ll be nice but you gotta listen to me. This is my car, I don’t need you fuckin’ it up.”

“You always think I’m gonna fuck somethin’ up!”

Jesus, this was already starting lousy as hell. Steve clasped his hands together. “Just…” He bit back his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing down an insult. He exhaled and looked over at Ponyboy. “Just, here, start the car.” Steve handed him the keys. “You know how to do that?”

“Yeah.” Ponyboy answered like he was offended. “Start ignition.” He placed the key in the keyhole then twisted it. The car let out a low rumble as it finally started.

“Good.” Steve said. “Now just—“

“Wait, ain’t I suppose to check the mirror?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, but we ain’t goin’ anywhere so—“

“And you didn’t even tell me which is the brakes or the gas pedal. You’re pretty lousy ad this teachin’ stuff, Steve.”

Steve’s mind goes back to all the times he wanted to hit Ponyboy but Darry or Soda were there. Nobody’s here to hear the kid cry but decides against it. “Well.” he gritted. “Do you actually know which is which?”

“Duh, this is the gas pedal and this is the brake.” Pony demonstrated with an amused, shit-eating grin.

Steve ignored it, feeling his face flush red. “Okay, hot-shot, do you know what the letters on this mean?” He points to the automatic transmission.

“Park, reverse, neutral, drive, low.” Ponyboy recites.

“Good, now you take—“

“Y’know, Steve, I’m surprised you know that. I didn’t even know you knew your ABCs.”

 _“Will you shut the fuck up?”_ Steve barked out suddenly. He didn’t mean to, but he didn’t regret it.

Ponyboy shut off the car looking unamused. “Gee, Steve. You look redder than the car—“

“What the hell is your problem?” Steve hissed, snatching the keys from Pony’s hand.

“Steve, I’m just doin’ us both a favor.”

“What?”

“C’mon, I bet Darry just threatened you to do this.”

“How do you know—“ his mouth shut when Ponyboy’s eyes with big.

“I knew it! You’re only doing this cause Darry said so!” Ponyboy turns to open the door, but Steve grabs his bicep. “Let me go!”

“Wait, where the hell are you going?”

“Home.” Ponyboy spat out. “This is useless.”

“Hey! Ain’t nothing useless about this. This country was founded on the principles of freedom. You got liberty of speech, press, and burning rubber.”

Pony stopped struggling to correct Steve. “It’s speech, press, religion, and—“

“Yeah, yeah. What’s the issue?”

“The issue is you don’t care, you’re only doing this ‘cause Darry told you or he would’ve kicked your ass.”

Steve snorted. “I could’ve taken an ass kicking yet I’m here.” He leered. “Besides, is it so hard to believe I just wanna help you and do this from, y’know, my heart?”

Now Ponyboy was snorting. “Yeah, right, Like you got a heart.”

Steve felt a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Funny, but I know I always seem like I got a stick up my ass but I really like you, kid. I do. Even if that theme says I don’t.”

Ponyboy’s head snapped up. Steve almost felt uncomfortable seeing those big, green eyes stare at him like that. Almost. “You… you read my theme?”

“‘Course.” Steve nodded.

“I, uh, I’m sorry I didn’t write more about you in the theme.”

“It’s fine, Pony.” Steve shrugged. “‘Sides, I liked all that stuff about being smart and talented with cars and drivin’ anything on wheels and my ‘complicated swirls’. Glory, if I ain’t know any better I’d say you got a crush on me, kid.”

“Shut up!” Ponyboy laughed, punching his shoulder. Steve forget the kid was definitely stronger than he looked.

“But real talk, man to soon-to-be-man, I get it.”

Pony looked confused. “Get what?”

“You’re scared about driving a car. I get it. It’s normal.” Steve consoled. “When I was your age, I felt like I was gonna shit my pants over my first test.”

“You?” Pony looked shocked. Steve can’t blame him, he _is_ that damn good. “Scared of driving? Aw, you’re just pulling my leg now. You ain’t afraid of anything, it’s like you live the wild life.”

Steve mused about that for a second. Huh. The “wild life”.

Ponyboy continued. “‘Sides, you and me’re just different. I can’t just jump into things like you or Soda. I just can’t.”

“Bullshit, kid. You jumped into burning church to save all those damn kids, that sure as hell seems like the ‘wild life’ to me.” Steve said, and he damn sure meant it too. “You’re a helluva great fighter for you age and you’re smart as hell too. Smarter than me but then again I’m a dropout.” An idea popped in his head. “Here, I got you something.” He opened the glovebox and fished out a black leather box, giving it to Ponyboy. “Here take this.”

Ponyboy took the box in his hand inspecting it. “What is it?”

“Open it.”

Pony opens the box and holds up its content, staring at it with what Steve hopes is awe and amazement. “What is it?”

“It’s a keychain, the hell are you blind?” Steve shook his head and cleared his throat. “Sorry, but uh this was supposed to be your birthday gift but I might as well give it to you know.”

“Woah.” is all Ponyboy responded with. Steve was glad.

“Hey, I even got ya name written in that fancy writing you like so much?”

The kid turned the keychain around to see “Ponyboy” written in cursive writing. That cost Steve an extra thirty bucks.

“Steve, I,” Pony breathed. “I, thank you. This is so tuff, seriously.”

Steve grinned, shaking Pony by the shoulder. “No need to thank me. You getting that license is all the thanks I want, got it?”

“Got it.”

“Alright, good. Now put ten and two and drive us to your house, it’s getting late.”

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


Buck’s missing two front teeth, bushy moustache, and funny accent can be real scary when he’s mad.

“Do you want to lose your job? Is that it? Did’ya get bored with us or somethin’, talk boy.”

Steve knew it was coming. Then again, he’s never come to work more than three hours after his shift began before, so there’s a first time for everything. It didn’t matter that even if he went on Cherokee Road that his ass would still be grass, but after last time, he couldn’t find himself to give a rat’s ass. Never in his nineteen years did he feel something like that, not even when his old man kicked him out for the first time. Screw that. Screw all of that. It don’t matter if he’ll lose his job—

“ _Shit!_ What the hell, Buck?” Steve yelps, rubbing the spot on his head where Buck hit him with a rolled up magazine.

“Are you even listenin’ to me?” Buck scolded. “I said talk, what the hell is goin’ with you?”

Steve hesitated. “I told you, my clock’s busted. I’m tryin’ my best here.”

“Don’t give me that bull.” Buck said. “You gave me that excuse last time, now if I have to buy you a clock my damn self I will, but really I should have your ass out there walking in the dead heat away from my station. I’m still thinking I should.”

“Buck, c’mon now, I had a few slips ups!”

“ _More_ than a few.” Buck corrected. “Now Steve, you're one of the most talented mechanics I’ve seen in my old years.” Buck is 27. “But as I’ve said before I need responsible folks workin’ for me, if you can’t handle that—“

“I can!” Steve blurted out. His face went red from realizing how loud his outburst was. Glory, this was pathetic. “Buck, please, I’ll do anything. I’ll, I’ll, uh, clean the bathrooms more, I’ll start working the night shift to make up hours, I’ll get on my knees and spit on your—“

“Hey!” Buck held up his hands. “I stopped runnin’ that kind of place, boy, calm down.”

“Your shoes and shine them…” Steve finished lamely.

Buck hummed. “I do like that night shift idea. Think you can handle that or you gonna be late to that?”

Steve let out a weak laugh. “Ha ha, you’re hilarious. I’ll be there, I promise. I’m sorry.”

Buck held out his hand. “Don’t apologize, just get to work, okay?”

Steve took his hand and shook it. “Okay.” Him and Buck share a small nod before he turns around and walks out of Buck’s office. Immediately, Sodapop is in his face.

“So, what did Buck say?”

“I gotta work the night shift.” Steve’s eyes went wide when it finally dawned on him.

_“Oh, shit. I gotta work the night shift.”_

  
  
  


✮

  
  


Steve was close to dying of a heat stroke in the evening Tulsa heat by the time Ponyboy finally made it to his car in the lot.

“Where the hell were you?” Steve spat out. He’s been waving his shirt for what felt like damn near eternity. “I called you out here an hour ago, I’ve been fryin’ like a fuckin’ pig and it’s almost late, you’re lucky I don’t work today.”

Ponyboy had the decency to look guilty while climbing in the driver seat. “Sorry, I got caught up in somethin’ and it was a long walk.”

“Long walk? It don’t even take a minute to get from here to your house, were you walkin’ slow or somethin’?” Pony opened his mouth to speak, but Steve continued. “Whatever, I just wanna start this. We didn’t get much done last time, so I wanna try maybe parking.”

Ponyboy looked around the empty lot. “There’s nothin’ to park with?”

“You’re a writer, don’t you got an imagination? Use it.” Steve retorted, giving Pony the keys. 

Pony purses his lips then started the car. When the low rumble began, he looked over to Steve. “Okay, so what now?”

Steve looked around then pointed to their right. “Park in front of that tree.”

Pony shifted the gear to drive then put his foot on the gas pedal, moving the car foward.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Steve stopped him. “Don’t you need to back up a little? You’re about to get on the street!”

“Oh, sorry.” Pony mumbled, grabbing the gear and shifting to reverse. The car immediately started backing up and Steve damn near had a heart attack.

“ _Kid!_ Ease the fuck up, willya?”

Pony took his foot off the pedal. Steve took the gear and shifted it to drive. Pony shook his head. “I’m sorry, alright I’m just off today.”

“You’re not off, you’re just a little tense, now drive to that tree, it’s easy, I promise.”

Ponyboy stepped on the gas pedal and the car went _off_. Steve felt his life flash before his eyes as his convertible went almost flying into the tree.

“Stop!” He jolted forward, bumping his nose on the dashboard as Pony stepped off the gas pedal. 

“Sorry, I—“

“Cut the shit!” Steve barked. “What the hell is going on, you did fine last time and I know you know how to do this simple shit.”

“Well if it’s so simple then why do I need to do it?” Pony asked with an innocent tone.

Steve shot him a murderous glare. “When do you turn sixteen? Two days, is it?”

Pony nodded. “Mhm.”

“Good, that means you ain’t some little kid anymore meaning I won’t feel sorry if I kick your ass.”

Pony rolled his eyes. “I knew it, you still hate me.”

“Yeah, you’re damn right I’m gonna hate you when your tryin’ wreck my fuckin’ car!” Steve snapped. “The hell are you still scared or somethin’ cause kid—“

“Why the hell does everyone always think I’m scared?”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t got my learner’s permit.”

Steve’s face softened. “Huh?”

“I said I don’t got my damn learner’s permit.” Pony snapped, glaring at Steve.

Steve leaned back, scratching his head. “I don’t get it. What the hell’re you talkin’ about, I remember you tellin’ is you got it.”

“I lied, sue me!” Pony leered. “Darry and Soda were too busy celebrating’ to actually ask for proof.”

Steve shrugged. “So what? You got time to get it, it’s fuckin’ easy. Are you worried the cops might get us cause kid, believe me, they don’t give a rat’s ass. I was learnin’ how to drive since I was thirteen it don’t matter if—“

“I don’t wanna learn how to drive!”

Everything went silent. The car was off. The road was deserted. It felt like everything in the world was frozen as Steve stared at Ponyboy’s glassy eyes. Christ, it felt like a century until he finally found words to come up in his throat.

“What did you say?” His voice was low. Real low.

Ponyboy looked away, hesitating. “I, uh, I don’t wanna drive.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. He slowly inhaled then exhaled and met eyes with Ponyboy nodding. “Alright, I get it.”

Pony’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? You do?”

“I get that you’re the stupidest goddamn idiot on this planet!”

Pony’s face scrunched up as he held up the finger. “Aw, fuck you, Steve.”

“No, cause I wanna know what the hell goes through that mind of yours. You’re the only damn boy in the world that doesn’t wanna learn how to drive, what’s that about?”

“It ain’t your business.”

“It _is_ my fuckin’ business when your brother is threatening’ to clobber my ass, I’m spendin’ an hour in the goddamn heat cooking like I’m some fuckin’ pig turning to bacon, and your almost totaling my damn car!” When Pony didn’t respond, he continued. “Y’know what? Fuck all that shit, I want you to be honest, why’dya drag me out here if didn’t wanna do this?”

“Blame Darry! He’s the one that made us do this!”

“Yeah, but you’re usually good at avoidin’ what he says, so what stopped you now?” Steve narrowed his eyes. “You like wastin’ my time is that it?”

“Steve,” Ponyboy said. Steve swore he could hear desperation in the kid’s voice. “I can't back out when everybody in the damn Milky Way keeps tellin’ me to drive!”

“And why wouldn’t you?” Steve looked at him funny. “Ponyboy, that square piece of plastic is what turns a boy into a man, it gives you all the freedom in the world, how could you not want that?”

“Writing gives me enough freedom.” Pony grumbled.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah fucking right, those shitty ass poems are not givin’ you shit except more people calling you a pansy.”

Something dark flashed in Pony’s eyes and Steve would be lying if he said it didn’t give him the creeps. “Shitty ass poems?” Pony echoed. “Shitty ass poems.” He let out a weak laugh and it just creeped Steve out even more. “That’s funny. Real funny that you think you got the right to talk about freedom.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “‘Scuse me?”

“I’m just saying it’s real hilarious how the nineteen year old workin’ two shifts at a job and barely makin’ ends meet while still livin’ in some shitty ass neighborhood in a shitty home with your shitty ass dad you hate so much, but you’re telling _me_ about freedom.” Pony laughed, seemingly amused by Steve’s reddening face. “Funniest thing I heard all year, Randle. You could be at some college right now and havin’ the time of your life instead you're here in Tulsa rottin’ away while you wait for them to ship you away to ‘Nam where you’ll die quick and easy, like your life didn’t even matter.” Pony poked his finger into Steve’s chest. “That sounds far from freedom.”

The next part happened so fast, toofast. Steve was almost confused himself. One minute he’s staring at Ponyboy, the next second his hands are grabbing the kid’s wrists, fingers digging into flesh and his face just mere inches away from Pony’s that their noses almost touch.

Ponyboy just stared. “What are you gonna do? Hit me? Punch me? You’ve wanted this forever, just do it. Hit me.”

Steve’s grip around his wrists tightened as his breathing got heavier. “If your brother was not my best friend, you’d be dead.” With that, he lets go of Ponyboy, falling back into his own seat as he looks out at the sky. “I thought you finally grew the fuck up and stopped being such a little shit but I guess I was wrong.”

It went quiet for a while, neither boy moving and the chirping of the birds and passing cars being the only sounds until Pony spoke.

“You know, Steve.” he started, “You don’t know what it’s like when everyone you care for is tellin’ you to do somethin’ you don’t wanna do.” Steve looked over and saw wetness form in the corner of Pony’s eyes, but Pony continued. “Everyone keeps tellin’ me one day I’m gonna be drivin’ and have a car and all that junk and I know it seems stupid, but I just don’t wanna let everyone down.” he glanced over to Steve, making eye contact. By now it was dark, but Steve could perfectly see those glassy eyes. “I just thought you of all people would just stay outta my business, but I guess not. Just do me a favor and leave me the hell alone, okay?”

Before Steve can answer, Ponyboy opens the door and runs out, taking off into the night once again. He just sat there and waited. And waited. And waited.

What was he waiting for? The hell if he knows.

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


The next morning, Steve shouldn’t’ve been surprised when he walked into the break room and got shoved into a stack of boxes against the wall.

“Goddamnit!” he grunted. “What the hell, Soda?”

“You wanna tell me what in God’s name happened with you and Pony last night and why he ran into the house crying?”

Steve blinked. “Uh, beats me.”

_“Steve.”_

“Okay, okay.” Steve held up his hands. “We just got into a little argument, but I didn’t hurt him, I swear on my life.”

“Sure as hell don’t look like it.”

“He said some things then got upset ‘cause I disagreed, look, did he tell you anythin’?”

Soda nodded. “No, me and Darry couldn’t get him to say nothin’. Steve, I swear to god if you did someth—“

“I didn’t do anythin’!” Steve defended. “Look, I told Superman that this probably wasn’t gonna work, me and the kid just don’t see eye to eye, it’s like puttin’ two hamsters in a cage together. Remember when you had those hamsters and they killed each other?”

“Yeah, I do.” Soda said all sad-like, probably thinkin’ about those hamsters that Steve won’t admit that Two-Bit actually killed. “But now who’s gonna teach him how to drive?”

Steve shrugged. “I dunno, maybe Shepard’s kid brother will, he drives. I know you hate that kid, but I think your brother’s get it.” he reasoned. When he noticed Soda’s unamused look, he shuffled on his feet. “Hey, look, I’ll just give the kid some space. It ain't nothin’ serious, I gotta work when y’all have his party tomorrow anyways, so he’ll probably be fine, right?”

Soda sighed. “Yeah, sure.”

“Hey, Soda. You ain’t mad at me, is you?”

Soda looked at him with tired, dull eyes. “No. No, I’m not. I just, uh… I just thought y’all would’ve started gettin’ along by now, but it’s whatever.” When the bell rang outside, he turned around and walked out the room, leaving Steve all alone.

Steve just stared. “I thought so too.” he whispered. “I thought so too.”

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


Why the hell does a gas station have a bar?

Steve’s been working here for three years yet he still doesn’t get it. At all. He’s a mechanic, for Christ’s sake, not a worker. All the girls came looking for Soda for a reason, he wasn’t exactly a “nice, friendly face.” The DX was more full of life at night and he fucking hated it, the drunks here couldn’t keep their liquor down for shit and _he’s_ the one on clean up duty. He’s damn near surprised his old man hasn’t shown up and joined this AA meeting.

“Hey, Steve,” Patrick said. “I’m goin’ to the back, of any customers come just take their order, okay?”

“Okay!” Steve echoed, flashing a big toothy grin as Patrick held up a thumbs-up and went to the back room. Once he was out of shot, Steve’s grin faltered. “Jackass.” he muttered.

Patrick was his co-worker during this shift and an absolute pain in the ass. A snitch, a smartass, a condescending prick, and an absolute pansy. He reminded Steve of himself but without any of the good qualities. _God_ , how the hell was Steve gonna get through this…

Just then, Steve’s attention snapped towards the sound of the entering doors swinging open. Only one damn person did that in Tulsa.

“Tim!”

There he was, Tim Shepard, walking up to the counter and slamming his palm on the surface like he owned the damn place.

“Randle, I usually don’t see you here at this time of night.” That’s his way of saying “Hello.”

“Yeah, I’ve been gettin’ in trouble with Buck so I agreed to start working this hour.” Steve explained. “Thank god you’re here.”

“Hey, I ain’t finna be long but what’s your issue? Oh, and get me a beer, willya?”

Steve turned around, getting a bottle of beer from the shelf and handing it to Tim. “This shift is awful, I see why people kill themselves now.”

Tim laughed, taking a swig from his bottle. “Is it that twig with the glasses?”

“Patrick? Yeah, how did you know?”

“I see him around. His face bothers me.” Tim shrugged. “Ain’t today the little Curtis’ birthday?”

Steve sighed. “Yeah, it is, they’re havin’ a party but I can’t go ‘cause I’m stuck here.”

Tim made a hum then went back to his beer. Steve opened his mouth to talk, but then the phone rang. “One sec,” he told Tim, who didn’t give a shit. Steve picked up the phone, putting it to his ear. “Hello, this is the DX, what can we do for ya?”

“Steve!” the muffled voice called out.

Steve knows that voice anywhere. “Soda? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Soda breathed. He sounded worried. “I’m callin’ from a payphone.”

“Is somethin’ wrong? You don’t sound alright.”

“It’s Pony,” Soda cried. “We were all fine and stuff then we showed him his present.”

“Which was?”

“A new truck.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. Oh shit.

Soda continued, “We showed it to him as a surprise then he just ran out the house. Darry and Two are in his truck out to find him and I’m ‘bout to do the same, but Steve y’know he’s a fast runner, he could be anywhere, I just—“

“Soda, calm down.” God, it always made Steve feel like shit to hear Soda so desperate, this was like the first time the kid ran off. Like Steve said before, trouble always finds that kid. “Do you got any idea where he went?”

“No.” Soda croaked. “I don’t get it, it’s like he’s scared to drive now or somethin’, he used to love playin’ cars with Dad.”

That’s when it finally clicked for Steve. After all these weeks, he finally realized.

“Hey, Soda.” Steve said. “You go ahead and look for him, I’m gonna do the same, bye.” He hung up the phone and jumped over the counter.

Tim stopped him. “Woah, where the hell are you goin’, don’t you remember you work here?”

“Ponyboy’s missin’, I think I know just to place to find him.”

“What about Buck? Ain’t you said you’ll be in trouble with him.”

Steve shrugged. “He’ll deal with it, I got a good reason anyways. ‘Sides, if he comes out here just tell him I’m in the bathroom or somethin’, I won’t be far.”

“Where the hell are you goin’?”

“You know that street by Camelot Drive and Main Street? Cherokee Road?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”

“It’s where Mr. and Mrs. Curtis had that car crash and died.”

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


Cherokee Road isn’t far from the DX, but after three minutes of running it sure as hell feels like it. Steve didn’t take his car just in case Buck noticed he was missing to give the illusion that he was still there. What a dumbass idea.

By the time he almost toppled over from lack of breath, a spot of white came into his line of vision. It was familiar. Too familiar. With one sharp inhale he jogged over, getting closer and just as he thought, that white spot is a white bench. Not to mention a white kid sitting on that bench slumped over with his head buried in his hair.

“Ponyboy!” Steve called out, jogging over to the kid. Pony doesn’t answer, and Steve’s too busy crumpled over catching his breath to know if he can even say anything else. He tries though. “The… hell… you… doin’... out… here.” Steve pants in short breaths.

Pony just shrugs. Steve goes to sit next to him once his breath is fully caught up.

“It’s late.” he says.

“I know.” Pony responds simply.

“Don’t you know this is when the creeps come out?” Pony doesn’t respond. Steve sighs. “You not gonna respond? Huh? Not a ‘You’re here’ to that? I just gave you the perfect opportunity to call me a creep, huh?” He grinned, nudging Ponyboy but his grin immediately falters when Pony still doesn’t respond. “Are you gonna say anything?”

“Leave me alone.” Pony grumbled.

“Alright, besides that.”

“Leave me the hell alone.”

Steve stared at him for a moment then let out a fake howling laugh. “Good lord, Ponyboy, you’ve always had that sense of wit I like.”

No response.

Steve was getting fed up now. “Okay, I’ll cut to the chase. You know your brothers and Two-Bit are worryin’ sick about you. They’re all over town looking for you.”

“I guess.”

“You guess? You _guess_?” Steve mimicked. “Christ, we’re gonna have to put a leash on you. Why did you run off like that?” Steve knew the answer, he just wanted to hear it.

Pony sat up, looking straight ahead with red rimmed eyes. The kid looked like absolute shit, not like how someone should be spending their sixteenth birthday. “It don’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.” Steve said. He wasn’t good at this comforting shit, even when Evie cried he never knew what to do and he sure as hell was gonna kiss Ponyboy’s cheek and whisper in his ear. “I know you might be still mad at me, but just tell me what’s goin’ on, I ain’t gonna yell or get mad or make a jackass remark.” When Ponyboy looked up to stare at him, he held up a hand. “Promise.”

Ponyboy looked back straight ahead. “I… I guess you were right, Steve.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “What d’ya mean?”

“I mean you were right, I am scared of drivin’.” Pony looked down at his feet. “I know Soda and Darry probably paid a lot of money for that car and I’m being an ungrateful brat but I just ain’t ready…”

“And why not?”

Pony’s head slowly lifted as he pointed towards the dented pole on the other side of the road. “You know that’s where Mom and Dad totaled the car?”

‘Course Steve remembers. He hates remembering it. He was there. He was on the scene afterwards. It happened so close to the DX that when Soda got the call they rushed their foot and they saw it. An SUV with a completely crushed up hood ransacking a streetlight with a massive dent. Two people were laid out not too far from the SUV. They were limp. Pale. Bloodied. Glass shards dug deep into their cuts and wounds. Soda had dropped to his knees. Dally struggled against the cops who kept him from crossing the tape line. Two-Bit threw up. It was the first time he saw Soda cry since they were kids. It was the first time he ever saw Superman come _close_ to crying. God, he felt so sick in that moment he wanted to puke with Two-Bit.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” Steve says quietly, looking at the streetlight. They ended up fixing it, but no matter how hard he tries he can only see it with the massive dent. Christ, it was such a horrible scene to look at. Steve was only sixteen when he saw, but then he thinks about how a thirteen year old would take seeing it. To be thirteen and see your parents lying lifeless on the ground all bruised and cut up. To be thirteen and see your brothers cry and your friends puke. To be thirteen and see a friend fight the cops as he holds back tears he was so obviously fighting back. To be thirteen and see where your parents had their final moments. To be thirteen and to know you’ll never get to see your parents again, the only parents you had, the only parents _Steve_ had. To be thirteen and to deal with all of that.

Steve felt fucking horrible.

Pony sniffled and wiped his eyes. “I was fine. I was really fine, I didn’t have no problems bein’ in a car or anything, but then Soda and Two-Bit and Darry started tellin’ me about how I was gonna start driving and do this and that and it all just came back.”

Steve nodded slowly. “I see why you been actin’ strange lately. I get it, kid. I still get scared to come down here myself.”

Pony looked at him like he was a nutcase. “You? _You_ get scared?”

Steve shrugged. “I got feelings too.” Pony’s eyes go wide and glassy, but Steve continues. “I remember what happened too. It happened real close to the DX. Real close, I always see it when I drive to work.”

“Oh.” Ponyboy murmured softly, glancing down at his feet.

“Yeah, _oh._ It fuckin’ sucks.” Steve admitted. “Almost _every single goddamn_ day I see this street and I think about it. I think about every single damn time and I freeze. I freeze and it’s like I’m back in time, seeing the fuzz and the medics and the tape and them.” he takes a dry gulp. “It sucks.” he paused, glancing over at Ponyboy. “Kid, I don’t think you’re scared of drivin’ you’re just scared of this street. You don’t want history repeatin’ itself.”

Pony choked back a sob. “Stupid, huh?”

“Nah, it ain’t.” Steve placed a hand gently on Pony’s shoulder. “It really ain’t. But, uh, I ‘been thinkin’ about that stuff you said about livin’ the ‘wild life’ y’know. I, uh, we ain’t been livin’ it like we should.

“I said you did and I meant it.” Pony said, he looked like he did two years ago right about now. “You’re the one doin’ all the drag races and joyrides and not carin’ what people think of ya and I’m just writin’ shitty poems.”

God, it felt like Steve got hit with a bus. “Ponyboy, I didn’t mean what I said about the shitty poems thing and I’m sorry I said that junk, I thought that theme you wrote was fucking amazing, better than Beethoven or whoever the hell it is. Point is that’s what _you_ like to do and it makes you feel alright. I mean hell, you’re a greaser that reads girly ass poems, that’s living the ‘wild life.’”

Ponyboy’s brows shot up. “Really?”

Steve nodded, feeling a small grin form on his lips. “Yeah, really.”

“Steve, all that junk I said about you stayin’ home and the ‘Nam stuff and—“

“Don’t apologize.” Steve said, waving him off. “It’s alright, but honest to God, kid, we gotta stop this.”

“Stop what?”

“This.” Steve said, gesturing towards the long asphalt stretchway in front of them. “Bein’ scared of a goddamn road.” He grinned and Pony returned that grin. It was the first time Steve saw the kid crack a smile this entire time.

Ponyboy sighed. “You think we’ll ever get over all this?”

Steve slinked an arm around his shoulder. “Sure. We will. It ain’t gotta be tonight, or tomorrow, or in the next century, but we will.”

It went quiet for a while after that. They stayed in the same position, looking out in the stars and whatever else was around the scene. It was comfortable. Steve felt comfortable. For the first time in probably weeks, he actually felt relaxed. Like a pressure was finally lifted from his chest. Good god, he was glad.

Finally, Ponyboy spoke up. “Hey, Steve. I think I wanna go home now.”

Steve couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “Alright.” Then he remembered… “Oh, damn it! I forgot I left my shift, uh,” Steve looked at his watch. “It ends in five minutes, Buck’ll understand. Come on, I didn’t bring my car.”

They both stood up and started walking.

“Hey, Steve?”

“What?”

“When we go home,” Pony paused for a second. “Can I drive?”

Steve stopped and stared at him for a second. He felt a lighting presence as he fished in his pockets and tossed his keys to Ponyboy.

“Knock yourself out.”

  
  
  


✮

  
  
  


“You’re late.”

It’s what Steve says the second Ponyboy walks through the door.

“Y’know, most people say good morning.”

“Good morning! You’re late.”

Pony rolled his eyes. “You ready?”

Steve nodded. “Yup. Hold on a sec, dad!” he called out to his old man sitting on the recliner watching Rocky and Bullwinkle. “I’m leaving!”

“Whatever.” his old man grumbled. “Is that your new fairy boyfriend or somethin’?”

“No.” Steve sneered. “It’s Sodapop’s kid brother.”

“All fairies to me, I don’t give a damn.”

Steve shot a desperate glance over to Pony that said “Go.” so they scrambled out the door but not without Steve slamming the door, followed by a string of loud curses from the old man. He laughed when he saw Ponyboy visibly cringe.

“If you lived with him, you’d find that noise better than the fuckin’ Beatles.”

“Why do you still put up with him?” Pony asked.

Steve just snorted. “‘Cause at this point, the old bastard needs me.”

Pony opened his mouth to speak, but instead he let out a soft hum and headed towards his car. Steve followed pursuit and looked around when he got inside.

“I can’t believe you traded in that truck Darry got you for a damn Volkswagen.”

“At least I got a workin’ car.” Ponyboy retorted. “I can’t believe I got a chauffeur a twenty year old. I thought when I got my license I would have more freedom.

“You _do_ and you _will_ when you take me to work so I can fix my car, it ain’t rocket science.” Steve jeered.

“Why couldn’t you get Soda to take you?”

“His shift starts an hour before mine, like hell I’m gonna just sit there for an hour.”

“And you wonder why you ain’t gettin’ promoted.” Pony grumbled before getting his keys out. Something about those keys looked familiar. Like he’s seen ‘em somewhere before.

“Hey,” Steve said. “Ain’t that the keychain I gave you for your birthday last year?”

Pony held them up, giving a small smile. “Yup. Never let go of ‘em.” He locked the key in the keyhole and started the car. Steve put on his seatbelt and sat back, smirking in satisfaction.

The car backed up through the driveway and soon they were off east to the DX. Not too long afterwards, they found themselves behind a long slew of cars, honking, yelling, and middle fingers.

“Christ.” Steve mumbled.

“Steve, I’m sorry you’re probably gonna be late.” Ponyboy consoled.

Steve looked over and saw it. _It._ That streetlight. That white bench. _That_ road. It was free as always. He looked over to Ponyboy. “Hey kid, I got somewhere we could go.”

Ponyboy’s eyes furrowed. “Where? The area’s backed up.”

Steve gestured his thumb over his shoulder. “That road’s not.”

Pony looked over and Steve was already prepared when he saw the kid’s eyes go wide. “Oh, no Steve. Steve, come on.”

Steve place a hand on Pony’s shoulder, looking him straight in the eye. “Hey. Calm it, you got this.” he let go. “‘Sides, Buck said if I’m ever late again then he’s definitely firin’ the hell out of me so get to it.”

Pony looked from Cherokee Road back to the road ahead, like he was thinking real hard about it. Steve had to do something.

“Here, I’ll turn on the radio.” Steve said, switching the radio on. “I Get Around” by the Beach Boys was playing. Thank God.

Pony backed out of the street, barely missing a few cars as he maneuvered his way through the traffic. He was rusty, but Steve was still proud either way. A month of lessons and the kid was almost as good as him. Almost.

The kid drove slow while turning on the road, and Steve understood. When they got to the street sign, Pony grasped the gear shift. “Y’know Steve I think maybe you should drive—“

“This ain’t my car.” Steve said quickly. “Kid, you can do this. I’m here.”

Pony stared at him for what seemed an eternity then squeezed his eyes shut, slowly inhaling then exhaling and easing his foot on the gas pedal. Steve gave a shake to his shoulder and looked over, rolling down the window and sticking his arm out. Pony seemed to follow pursuit.

Steve looked around, over to the streetlight. That straight, undented streetlight. It had this nice coat of black paint to it. He looked over to that white bench where he and Pony sat. It was a couple of old folks sitting there, talking and laughing. That bench does shit to people. Steve likes it.

“Hey, Steve,” Ponyboy says.

Steve looks over. “What?”

“This is boring. I’m about to floor it.”

“Wait, you’re about to wh—“ Steve jolted into his seat as the car started going at lightning speed. Ponyboy starts howling, his ungreased hair went crazy in the wind. Steve still cares about his hair, greasing it and all, but Christ he wanted to feel that too. When his heart jumps back down from his throat, he starts laughing too. The natural breeze of the wind felt fucking amazing on his face as the Beach Boys blasted from this tiny ass Volkswagen. If he had a pair of sunglasses, he’d be feeling like Marlon Brando right about now. He looked over to the kid, smiling as he speeds down Camelot Drive now. It didn’t matter if the fuzz was around or if they were gonna possibly hit something or someone. They should be thinking about it, but they ain’t. They got all the time in the world to worry about shit like that, but not now. Not when they both were having the time of their lives.

Yup. _This_ is the wild life.

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it to the end, congratulations on your phenomenal patience. hopefully i can get something done sooner than the next century. thanks for reading, i hope you enjoyed! xx (catch me @ randlewrld on tumblr)


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